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I would have deleted previous posts on this site – I mean come on, this serves as my diary. But then, I like to think that the challenges we overcome do make us stronger. We may have lost a few things, a few people, much of our time to things we feel are no longer worth it, but keep in mind that losing those that hurt us give us more strength to carry on.

So I’m posting this, just so the first thing everyone sees when they open my page is of happiness – of serendipity; not of previous happiness that opened pits of sadness.

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

PS. This is the raw photo of one of my favorites (from the photos I took.) Forgive it for not being as beautiful as the one on Facebook! Hehe thanks!

There are days when you’d think that you deserve to be somewhere else – that everything is tiring, and that this isn’t worth all the overtimes & daily insanity you feel.

But then you remember that here, you have your comfort zone.

9 months with you isn’t a joke. It isn’t a short period that I can let go once I find a different path and finally decide to free myself from something that keeps on dragging me to the depths of emotional misery.

A day never passes by that we don’t rant about our situation – that we don’t tell one another how much we want to get out of this place. And today was the worst for me – today was the day that I sat on my chair, faced my computer, and found tears rolling down my foundation-covered face while updating a JFC project. I am at the point that I am so tired and I feel helpless, and I feel the need to reevaluate the situation – because this is no longer healthy for me – mentally & emotionally. Even physically, in fact.

But the thing is, I told you. Telling you was a mistake for my ego. Because I realized that I can never grope the courage and urge to leave you. How can you leave a place where there is comfort in the midst of stress?

You are that, for me.

Imagine how overwhelmed I am – it’s 5:58 PM and I still lack 7 projects (I have 7 linked *baka awayin nyo ko HAHA), yet I felt the need to find the time and insert this into my hectic schedule because I wanted to thank you – for being my sanity, for being my comfort zone.

I know there are days when you feel the same – sobrang pagod, sobrang feeling nyo di na worth it, sobrang nakakaiyak na. (Kahit araw-araw ata to HAHA)

But then, tulad ng napag-usapan natin kanina, we cling to one another. While we feel the same way, it seems as if drowning is fine, feeling tired is fine, working overtime is fine, eating at 4 in the afternoon is fine – because through it all, we have us.

We support each other in ways that never need to be spoken – quickie lunch breaks, walking the same direction together, endless sending of recurring Skype photos – and in these – while simple, we find comfort.

Thank you.

Thank you for being my constants.

My department, too, has never failed to make me happy- to take the stress away, to make all of us feel loved. And they deserve a separate /post/.

For now, this is yours. Because you’re different, we’re different. And I am grateful. Ew.

I can’t believe how difficult it is to think of a word to begin this rush of feelings

You’ve been here. You can survive this.

You’ve been here. You can survive this.

You’ve been here you can survive this.

You must feel really stupid right now for letting every ounce of negativity continue to eat you alive. You thought you were done with this, but the world never runs out of surprises for you – surprises that scare you, that oppose to how you want your life to go, surprises that let your anger rise.

You’re not done with this, and it’s okay. People will see it as your fault – for being too sensitive; for seeing through their darkest parts; for believing in what you see instead of the planned lines and excuses they send you upon reading your questions.

You’re not done with this, and it’s okay. People will be disgusted, disappointed – at the fact that you can do this to yourself – that you let yourself suffer in pain when walking away is probably the easiest choice you have. They will be in shock looking at you, staring at you, as you cry your eyes out over and over again, because of the same person, because of the same reason.

You’re not done with this, and it’s okay. People will wonder how much strength you have in you to continue to be like this – to be able to fight and stand firm for what you still see, even when what you’re fighting for only causes you pain – or to say properly, more pain than the joy it brings. They will ask if you don’t get lumps in your throat and the urge to cry upon hearing lies – and you’re sure that they are lies, even when he/they tell(s) you otherwise, and you will hide the truth that yes, you do have lumps in your throat at the thought that one day, you will be completely replaced, even when you are “assured” that you’re not, that you won’t be.

You’re not done with this, and it’s okay. You will go in circles again and again. The cycle will never end until you choose to stop, until you choose to walk away. Until you choose to break the vow.

And that’s probably why you will never be done with this. You’ll never get tired of thinking that you can survive this; that you will get through this, again.

Never have I felt the need and the urge to write something for a freshie block, in my 3years of being one of the upper classmen. Perhaps because graduation is near, or simply because you have grown out of your shells – shells that you hid in on your first days, on your first weeks, until you met the cliques you have now.

I can’t even find the right words to say, omygod. You became my babies without me being an FBC. You became my babies without me bulging inside your classrooms everyday. We had this mother-children relationship even with just simple hugs and “musta kayo’s” every time we meet in the hallways, in the streets, everywhere.

Meeting you was one of the best things that happened in my college life. Although nearing the end, with two semesters left, you made a foundation that stood so strong and supported me on my struggle to finish my fourth year.

I tried my best to be with you for long spans of time on our first weeks. I met you, all of you, during your org application period. I was the happiest. ❤ We sat there, with our senior stances, asking you basic small-talk questions as you asked us for signatures for tambay hours. Ahhh, how lovely. After a few days, you became one of us. And that made me so proud: you finishing your Multiple OrgASM, you surviving your final rites with people shouting at you, “ANONG PABORITO MONG ULAM?” “ ANONG PLURAL NG SEAMAN?” and of course, “SINONG MAGANDA DITO??” to which you had no other choice but yours truly. HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Then came days when some of you wouldn’t go home without having chit chats with me, as you passed by the Gen Tam. No, you wouldn’t pass without making me stand and tell me how your day was. You heard about my subjects, you heard about my own struggles, you heard about petty inarte’s that I had. And you laughed about them with me. When I had my grad shoot, and you saw its result, you made me so kilig when you all reacted, “SHET NAY.” I love you, grabe.

Second semester came and you saw me through hell. You saw me strive as I had to read thick books for one exam. You saw me as I tried to write and finish papers before deadlines. You discovered that I was this crammer who never really failed to finish papers before their dues. You understood reasons why I couldn’t stand anymore when I’m sitting somewhere trying to read about the histories of China, Korea, Japan. You sent all these virtual hugs, flying hugs, whenever I couldn’t catch up with you anymore. All those times you asked me to join you for lunch but I couldn’t. You understood that I became busy. And understanding wasn’t the only thing you did. You comforted me, and told me I’ll get through this. That I’d graduate on time. And assured me that you were there for me.

It may not have been all of you who were able to comfortably and easily approach me, talk to me about your days, about your own problems. But believe me, never would I leave out any love for any of you. My motherly instinct loves all of you. The mother in me was the proudest when you performed during SocSci week.

I saw you grow. Well, I may not have been always there, but I did ask some of you how your block was. I saw you grow, I saw your struggle with Math11 jusko, I know some of you finished your major Comm papers only hours before its deadline (in fact started writing it only the night before – which made the crammer in me proud, too). I saw you through your problems. I watched some of you fall apart. I saw through you as you changed your cliques of friends. I saw some of you fall in love anubayan. And everything you are now, everything you struggled with, is normal. You’re in your right paths.

Dearest loves. I know you have different plans after surviving your first year. Some of you will stay, but most of you have something else in mind. Although I was high with the hopes that you stay in your current course, please know that I will always be supportive of what you wish to become. Your plans to transfer schools/campuses and shift to other courses will have its back up: me. Being with you, albeit not always physically, has made me one happy and proud mother of your block. And I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for not having been there when you needed support the most. I’m sorry for spending only so little time with you. I’m sorry for not having been able to help you with every thing. But I tried, and I’m glad because I know that this isn’t a big deal on you. YAAAAS.

Congratulations, loves. We survived two sems together. Thank you for being there. Thank you for trusting me with your problems, and your issues. Thank you for letting me feel indeed like a mom to all of you; for letting me know when you’d do surprises so I can be a part of it, for inviting me to your trips, for making me feel loved. Believe me, your block was a big part of my senior year. ALAM NYO NAMAN YAN HIHI Thank you for trying to keep up when I tell you stories of higher/major subjects, and of situations you never heard backstories of. Thank you, simply for being there as I cried, as I laughed, as I sought for comfort and for joy.

As some of you go your separate ways, as some of you move one step closer to you dreams, please, never forget that you have one another to come back to as family; that you have your friends, your block, to make you feel at home when you feel lost. May you always be reminded that in the roots where you started, you will find your first loves, you will find your first college family. Please, stay in touch. Continue to be there for each other. Continue to be the family that I was always proud you became. And syemps, remember that you have a mother in me.

There is so much love I have for you, legit. I am one happy graduate because of you, because you were there with me. Thank you, babies. I love you!!

PS. In your future endeavors, I hope you remember to serve the people and be for the people, too.

Today, I woke up happy because I slept on my bed and for the past week, I really missed it. It’s almost been a week since I started my dorm life, and 2 nights of this week, I slept at my friends’ houses. Apparently, stupid as I usually and unintentionally am, I left my readings at the dorm, and to my surprise, our cable connection isn’t working, I had no internet this day (just now, I guess since I am able to post this), I had no plans and I didn’t leave the house. My parents left with Eli to go to church, (I had to stay home because of a few acads-related things I tried to accomplish) and my brother left to play basketball. I was alone. I am alone on Valentine’s and it doesn’t bother that much. What bothered me the most is that I didn’t have anything to do and it was boring. Well that was until I remembered I downloaded the whole first season of Bojack Horseman (it’s a Netflix original, and I must tell you, it’s a good series) so I watched every episode. By afternoon, I was done and satisfied. The series is cool: It’s a bit weird at first, ‘cause you don’t really get to watch a talking horse, or cat, or penguin, or sloth – or see them mingling with people, but after an episode or two, it’s not a new thing anymore. I loved it more when I had its end theme on my head and found out (by the 8th episode) that it was actually Grouplove that sang it.

I slept for a few hours, and woke up bored. I scanned the laptop for a few more videos that I hoped I had. I had my highschool and college videos, but I wanted to watch something else. Lucky me, I found My Girl. It’s an old film and I guess I downloaded it years ago ‘cause I had no idea it was here. So I watched it. Here I am still crying my eyes out HAHAHAHAHA I had too many feelings while watching it. As I said before, ever since my grandmother died nearly a year ago, I became very sensitive with death. I felt bad when people I, or my family, knew die. At 21, I lost thought of the reason why people have to be taken away – why they have to go and leave us and just be gone forever physically. I know how people always say that the people who die remain in our hearts, but that hasn’t comforted me for the longest time. I remember Sirius Black say, “The ones we love never really leave us,” then he died in the series and that was just a big heartbreak. Can’t trust the world. Point is, watching this film kind of made me feel uncomfortable (just because of the death part). As a whole, though, it was a wonderful film. I loved how it reminded me so much of my Dad, how much of a Daddy’s girl I am. It made me think, however, that I’ve been missing him so much recently. He’s been going out of town a lot for work. When we’re both home, we need to rest – he needs to rest most of time ‘cause work’s really tiring. We haven’t bonded a lot except for dinners out. I had to pause the movie ‘cause I started to cry. And this is exactly why I never thought of living away from home (i.e., dorm). I get home sick immediately. My parents always think of this as a joke, though, since I usually go out, but even when they don’t know, I’m just really happy when I get to spend time with them. My mom also got a new position and it’s been taking her to places recently, too. We don’t always see one another anymore. Or maybe I’m just taking this a bit too emotional since I am a very clingy person.

Going to back to the movie, I loved how it showed such a beautiful friendship between Veda (?) and Thomas J. I loved how they told each other everything and bullied each other at all times. I remembered my best friends (ew ano ba) and it made me feel so good that I have them. From my high school sisters to my college bestfriends, my heart is just packed with love when I think of them. HAHAHAkadiri ano ba. But srsly, I’m really lucky to have the friends I have now. BUT THEN THOMAS J DIED AND I CRIED MY EYES OUT AND I DIDN’T STOP CRYING EVEN AFTER THE FILM ENDED. I hate to think of it, but what if it happens to me? I don’t really know if I can ever handle that. I hate it when people die. But I don’t really want to dwell on this. And being the person that I am, I’ll probably send messages to my best friends later. HAAAAAAY PREDICTABLE ME HAHAHAHAHA

As I tried to finally calm down, my grandmother (Mamung) texts me greeting me a happy valentine’s and asking us to pray for her brother, Papu Len, who died years ago because it’s his birthday. AND SO I STARTED CRYING AGAIN. Papu Len was there when I grew up. He lived with Mamung, so we always saw each other. He was single, and all his love, he gave to us. Being the first baby of the family, I can say that I’m lucky to have been given a bit more love than everyone else. I miss him. And when I think of myself graduating soon, I always pray that he’s proud of me. I miss him a lot. Everytime we go to the cemetery, I sit on the grass (which no one else in the family does) and talk to him. I tell him stories about school, about our family, about my friends, and sometimes even about my turtle. There are nights, too, when I suddenly think about him, and every grandparent I already lost. At 21, I still cry a lot. I’m such a crybaby and everyone knows that. I miss you Papu Len, and happy birthday.

At 21, I still haven’t got a full idea of how to handle death. But I guess that’s normal for an emotional crybaby like me.

Having all of the feelings I had today was really tiring. After feeling everything, all I wanted to do was lie down and cry. But I didn’t. I wrote this instead.

This is why I write. This site is an avenue of my emotions. I may not be as a great writer as most of my friends are, but this is my own thing. I may not be the kind that uses lots of kinds of words to write, but I just want everyone to understand me and everyone else. And although it’s a bit of myself, writing really does bring comfort.

I hope we all know our emotional avenues. So that none of us have to keep them inside and feel them rot as our sadness try to eat us alive.

And I guess I’ll say it here: I may not always tell you that you’re my bestfriend (kasi it’s such a cringeworthy thing to say) but know that I love doing my best to make you feel that, to let you know that you ARE my bestie, that I’m forever grateful for having you as an emotional outlet, that I swear to this world that you can trust me; and that I love you. You may not be the only one, but believe me, although I have a lot of friends, there are only a few of you that I completely trust; and if you feel like you’re one of them, you might not be wrong. Thank you for knowing me well enough to know that this is you. Cheers to the friends we love the most. ü

These past few days have been very heavy with annoyance, with negative feelings, and people I try to understand- and it’s been so long since I last felt this agitated.

Packing up the courage to spill my feelings out, I approached a close friend, (and I mean close, like this person literally knows all that I’m going through) and told him how I felt so bad this morning. I ranted for almost 5 minutes when he finally gave me a look that made me feel that I needed to stop, and he said, “Bakit ang negative mo?”

I was silenced, and he spoke again, “Napaka-negative nung mga sinasabi mo.”

I thought of everything I told him, then, and realized that I was indeed telling him all the negative feelings I had, without even trying to balance it with the many good things happening.

For days, I’ve been focusing, and lingering, on my negativity, thus feeding this creature inside me, making everything worse than they originally are.

Thank you, world, for giving me honest and straightforward (and mature) friends who understand me firstly, reprimanding and reminding me of what I’m doing wrong after. The immature and childish person in me always gets a clear view after hearing different perspectives. So thank you for people who listen. Hehe.

For people who love all kinds, forms, and shapes of art, the Pasinaya Festival is one event that they never want to miss out on. Home based at the Cultural Center of the Philippines, the Pasinaya is an annual event that features different artists and various forms of art (film, theatre, dance, market, museums, etc) and stretches on the distance range from CCP to Intramuros. The festival is known as the largest multi-arts festival in the country – and seeing it first-hand proves it.

Although stretched a mile along common roads in Manila, I chose to visit its main venue: CCP. Upon arriving, you’d already find a lot of people outside (and “a lot” is an understatement). They were either having snacks, trying to buy food albeit having to wait on long lines inside restaurants and stalls, taking photos, or watching street performances (along P. Bukaneg St., as the street was closed for the event). Everything around me moved & made sounds. As I waited for my companion, I stood on a sidewalk along Bukaneg and in front of me were people lining up at food stalls; to my left were performers walking towards what seemed to be their entrance; my right was a sight of street performances (it was lunchtime when I arrived, and during that time the performances were presented by a group of people with “tambay” on their name); and behind me, I could hear instruments playing along with vocals to the tune of Freddie Aguilar’s Bayan Ko.

Given the view of the sea of people I tried to not get lost in, one would see Pasinaya 2016’s theme (“Family and Children”) coming to life as families walked together, with the eagerness of spending their Sunday by joining the hundreds of people (and more families) choosing to enjoy this year’s offer of various arts. (And unless you’re used to going to different places, it really isn’t advisable to go to Pasinaya alone: you’d miss on photo opportunities (as the only choice you have to have a photo of you and an artwork is to take a selfie), you wouldn’t enjoy being lost in the crowd, and you’d have no one to tell of how you feel seeing one thing or another (i.e: reaction to a film, the different exhibits, etc)).

Watching Pinagbuklod ng Talento Tambay (the aforementioned group I suddenly recalled the name), you’d see that their dances are very passionate- filled with emotions and love for what they do. While watching them perform, my friend arrived and we registered to get in. The festival had a suggested “donation,” (or starting price) valued at P20. We paid and got ourselves a schedule of the shows (and a “ticket” to be wrapped around our wrists), and went in, finally.

We went in line in front of Dream Theater, which was the line for 2 short films: “Ang Maangas, Ang Marikit, Ang Makata” and “Ang Kapitbahay Ko, 2014.” The theatre was small, only to accommodate probably about a hundred people just. The first short film shown was, and the story I loved among the two (so it’s what I choose to write about) is “Ang Kapitbahay Ko,” a project of UP Mass Communications students.

The film opens with two small girls, living in two different buildings, both on the 31st floor, windows facing each other – and this is how they (try to) communicate with each other. With a road separating them, the two play with each other in creative ways and one (and the first seen on the film) was with their hands. They’d mirror each other: the first girl moves and the other copies. The film goes on like this, revolving on the two girls, how they’d “meet” after school, play tic-tac-toe in the best way they can (by painting on the windows on different sight perspectives), be creative as they also had puppet shows to show each other, and look through each other’s innocence by using binoculars to see the other across the road and the windows in front of them. The film exposed such purity in the way the two girls treated and interacted with each other: they were literally “so close, yet so far.” One day, though, as one of them looked at the unit across through binoculars, she found balikbayan boxes all around the unusually clean room. Without hesitation, and by smartly (although risky) escaping from her yaya, the girl went down, crossed the street (this scene, albeit usual, was pretty scary as she was so young and it was so dangerous), and went up to the other building’s 31st floor, knocking on every unit on that floor as she tried to find where the other girl lived. Knocking on the last unit, she was about to walk away as she felt hopeless when the door opened and the two finally meet face to face. She introduces herself as Kela, and waits for the other to speak. To her mild surprise, however, the other girl made sign languages (might have spelled out her name), then asked an adult (who was probably her mother) for a writing board on which she wrote her name: Ana – and with this, the film ends.

The film was really touching because to have two kids show you the value of friendship is not a usual scene in the modern (film) industry. Their innocence at a young age gives one who watches a feeling of peace within, knowing that films like this, and kids like those casted, (still) exist to teach us the value of our relationship with other people.
An open-ending to ponder on, I’d like to think that after meeting, they two girls remain friends. Even if it seemed that Ana is moving to another house, having to leave their fresh memories of two units across one road, they keep in touch; and that it didn’t matter if Ana was disabled. Her inability to speak is not a hindrance for her to be friends with, and be a loving sister to, Kena.
And so it gives us another insight, one that we should have known for a long time, and keep in our minds: that people’s disabilities are not measurements of their ability and capacity to feel, to love, to enjoy life, and to be happy around people. They are as normal as we are, as caring as we are; they are all the things that we are, too. The friendship we create with them are as valuable as any other relationship we create with other people – perhaps more special, even. And in the case of Kena and Ana, their young bond will bloom into a more beautiful friendship as they grow old and find that there’s more to life that they can share with each other – no longer confined in separate rooms and parted by roads and windows, nor bounded by “sleeping time,” and different whiles.
Of all the things I saw and enjoyed at Pasinaya 2016, it was this film: a reminder of family values and friendships. ** So there was another film, (which I choose not to elaborate *hehe) and a lot more sights: there were folk dances, more exhibits stationed on different floors, workshops and other films (that we didn’t get to see and enjoy because of the long lines (and the theaters’ lack of seats)), and as we went out after watching a theatrical performance (the last we saw that day), there continued more dances: dances offered to Sto. Nino (still held along Bukaneg St.), and an although-usual-still-breath-taking dance performance by students from Perpetual University).
That ended our Pasinaya experience. It was fun, I must say, despite the sea of people that we had to crowd with and try to pass through to see more of what was in store for those who attended the festival. The Pasinaya Festival indeed showcases local art in the best way it can – at a cheap price and simultaneously. Wherever you went, you’d either see or hear something- art was everywhere and ceased only when you leave. As “bitin” as it sounds since there’s still this mile-long experience and different museums we could have seen and visited, the CCP experience was enough to prove to us that art is not dead in the country – that there’s still so much more to see and appreciate. ü

I remember taking Psych10 (Journey into the Self) during my first year in UP. There was one day when we had to be in one circle and each of us were asked what our worst fear was. I was in love when I was asked that question, but I guess the fact whether I was in love or not doesn’t really matter, because the answer never changed. My worst fear, until now, is change. It’s a lame thing to say, (and a lame thing to make a joke about – my friends literally got coins from their pockets and shoved them into my face since I was afraid of ‘change’) but it’s true. I grew up getting used to adjusting to different kinds of people, falling in love with their souls, their hearts, their stories. I loved treating them the same – giving them all the love I can give. But that’s what triggers the fear: making people important and being important to them. You start getting attached to them and then you start being afraid to lose them, and when something comes up and things have to change, you just lie beside yourself thinking and asking why all this has to happen. I don’t like changes. I don’t like it when people change. I don’t like it when I lose the people I met for the new them. I don’t like thinking that I might have done something wrong to contribute to this change.

My fear of change hasn’t faltered. It remains the same thing I’m afraid of. It remains the same thing that terrifies me. Albeit inevitable, I choose to avoid it. Just because I don’t like losing people.

Exactly why I haven’t been honest with my feelings for quite a long time now. I’m terrified that once you hear the truth that I never dared to speak out, things will change. And so you’ll never know. You’ll never confirm. You might think of it, but I’ll never tell you why or how or confirm its validity.

Or maybe I will.
Once my fear of changes runs down and stays away;
Or when I finally find the courage in me to tell you the truth and ask you what you fear the most.

Being an open book, a girl full of energy, and everyone’s “happy, cheerful friend,” it never becomes easy to hide feelings or try to avoid showing them. One letting out of breath, even the most silent, becomes loud when your friends know you too well. The moment you sit and think while everyone continues to laugh at the joke that made a certain impact to you, and they too become quiet, knowing that something they said hit you. Surprisingly, you know very well that there are things that you try to hide from your own self, too – which, of course, you never succeed at because that is just the weirdest and most messed up thing you can ever try to do. Point is, it’s kind of difficult to be an open book, because you become too predictable, and at the same time vulnerable. Unfortunately, one of the things I tried to keep to myself but failed to was my confusion over my feelings for you.

Meeting you was one of the best things that ever happened to me. (Cliché as this statement always sounds, no doubt that it’s true with you). And that was just the first of many bests. You became an outlet, you became a sponge who knew a lot of stories about me because I decided to open up and show both souls – the happy and the desperate- to you. You knew all my frustrations, and for a lot of times, you were there when I needed to break down and cry my feelings out. You discovered the person I am behind all the love I try to comfort everyone with. You found out that even the most energetic person you meet can have dull days – that I can be very boring, that I might be too sensitive at times, and that I usually take one step forward then two steps back because I can get very weak even when I seem to be at my strongest state. With you becoming everything that I seemed to need, you began to feel like home. You became the person I thought of when I listened to Fall Out Boy (hear: Favorite Record, Me and You (with the long title that I preferred not to write HAHA), Alone Together), Ed Sheeran (hear: Friends, Give Me Love), and Taylor Swift (hear: Begin Again, Sparks Fly, Enchanted). To my weirdest surprise, I could visualize you too when I listen to The Script (hear: No Words, Millionaires), One Republic (hear: Something I Need, If I Lose Myself, Burning Bridges) and Adele (hear: Water Under the Bridge, Make You Feel My Love, Remedy). Question: Do you even know how frustrating it is to be reminded of someone even when one just simply wants to listen and enjoy songs without feeling anything peculiar??? Wow well I guess not.

And that went on. I enjoyed spending time with you. Days with you became more fun. Stories that you now know were told with so much enthusiasm than I did with anyone else. You became so special, and I became fragile. I was vulnerable to the point that one word and I knew I’d do anything to keep your spirits up. It became a self-obligation to make you happy and help you with anything, even if it meant I’d lose a bit of myself. But all that, I did with the uncertainty of my feelings. There were days that you were merely just a friend and I always thought that there wasn’t more to what seemed to be sure. But then there came days when I felt unusually clingier; when I started thinking of saying something that will lead to a conversation like one I had years ago: a conversation about feelings and confirmations. I became caught in between the ideas of having to move away from you to avoid fully falling and of keeping myself close because I value our friendship the way I value my relationship with my high school friends (AND OH GOD AND THE REST OF THE WORLD KNOW HOW MUCH I VALUE THAT HAHA). I prefer the latter, and I guess I always will.

Just today, (and only because of a very unfortunate event that happened hahahahahahahahaha oh how unlucky can I get?), I came to the realization that it might be the lack of someone to love romantically that kind of pushed me to see you as more than a friend. As much and as hard as I tried to push the endless thoughts of falling in love with you away, I couldn’t. It stayed there and as I continued to avoid that and crash my anti-falling-in-love urge against my real feelings, I became more confused. I became more vulnerable, unsure, and more fragile. And never do I blame you.

I don’t blame you for being the person I choose to open up to. I don’t blame you for listening intently to everything I have to say: from my past heartbreaks to my future goals. I don’t blame you for caring when I’m in my most frustrated state and in need of breaking down.

But I don’t blame myself as well.

I don’t really think there exist any regrets in this confusion.

But I intend to let you go. Of course not you- you. I intend to let the thought of falling in love with you go – fully, but slowly. I can’t remain standing on an indecisive ground, watching you laugh and cry and be happy and fall in love with someone else – to which my reaction is a mixture of being very happy for you and of stings of pain that I can’t comprehend.

This, all of this, shall pass soon. I just think it’s sad that a few songs that I remember you in suddenly changed. Now I start to think of you in Miss Missing You (Fall Out Boy), Ed Sheeran’s U.N.I., Taylor Swift’s The Story of Us (or All Too Well, or Teardrops on my Guitar). Sadly, it happens, too, with The Script’s Exit Wounds (or Six Degrees of Separation), One Republic’s Come Home, and Adele’s Someone Like You (or Turning Tables, or OKAY BASICALLY EVERY HEARTBREAKING ADELE SONG).

Then again, this is just a phase. I may still be infatuated, frustrated, confused, but I still and will continue to choose to be with you. I won’t step away from this friendship that I will be forever grateful for.

Thank you for being that person who exercises my emotions. (Thank you for making me psychologically active, hahaha). Thank you for this up-down rollercoaster frustration that one day I know will bring forth a lot of happier days, once I finally confirm and finalize whatever it is I still am confused of.

Every hug will still be platonic.
Every story will still be enthusiastic.
And every I love you will remain non-romantic.

No one will fall in this relationship.
No one loses the other.

Wala nang Ken at Ysel dito.
And that is the best statement that I can tell you. At alam mo yan. HAHAHAHA.

Here’s to more beers and adventures together in this wonderful world, and in this beautiful friendship.